


Sherlock Holmes is a great babysitter

by TooManyChoices



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Babysitting, Domestic Fluff, Gen, Sherlock Holmes and Experiments, Sherlock makes a great babysitter, What Have I Done, watson baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-02-05 00:42:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1799218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooManyChoices/pseuds/TooManyChoices
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The jury is still out on whether we'll get to see a Watson baby (I'm leaning toward no). Whatever happens, this fic resulted from a conversation over Sherlock and his potential aptitude with a young child. Personally.....I think he'd be hysterical.<br/>This fic is based on the assumption that John and Mary are still together, still friends with Sherlock, and their daughter has been safely delivered and is now 6 months old.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock Holmes is a great babysitter

"Are you sure you'll be OK with her, Sherlock?" John handed the baby over a little hesitantly, "She can be a handful."

"We'll be fine, won't we Ruby-girl?" Sherlock balanced the little girl in the crook of his arm as Mary hung the nappy bag over his other shoulder.

"Relax John, look at them together. They can't wait to get rid of us." Mary placed a comforting hand on her husband's arm.

Ruby, as if to reinforce her mother's opinion, gurgled happily and fisted her tiny hands in the lapel of Sherlock's dressing gown

"We'll be home before midnight." John assured Sherlock for the fifth time that day.

"I don't know why you don't just leave her with me for the night. I'm quite capable of taking care of a six month old child."

"We know Sherlock, but we'll sleep better knowing she's home with us. Little steps OK?"

Sherlock made a noise that might have been agreement or derision depending on the way John and Mary chose to take it, and shuffled them meaningfully toward the door.

"Yes, fine. Go...enjoy your 'date night', Ruby and I have things to do. Say goodbye to your parents Ruby."

As if on queue, the little girl gurgled and squirmed in an oddly supportive way as John and Mary smiled and leaned to kiss her one last time before heading down the stairs.

"Right then young lady, your parents left me with an exhaustive list of activities they deem inappropriate for a person your age. I think it fair to say we'll pretend we never saw that and I trust you'll keep any indiscretions between us."

Sherlock spoke as if to an adult, having found that Ruby was comforted by the tone and inflection regardless of her ability to respond. Neither John nor Mary spoke to their daughter this way, instead using endless childish terms such as piggy-wiggy and wibbly-wobbly but Sherlock saw little value in her learning words that would no doubt be discarded in adulthood.

Dropping the nappy bag by the sofa, Sherlock retrieved his 'secret weapon'. He'd found the baby harness while shopping with the Watson's for nursery furniture and immediately been struck by the brilliance of the design. With the straps adjusted, Ruby was safely cradled against his chest, where they could continue to share meaningful dialogue, and his hands were free to continue whatever tasks he had planned for the evening.

For her part, Ruby clearly loved being in the harness, her legs free to dangle and with her back to his chest, whenever Sherlock spoke, the rumbling vibration tended to make her giggle in delight.

"So Ruby, what do you feel like doing this evening? I have some terribly interesting case files I could show you..." Sherlock wandered to the desk idly lifting the cover, "...maybe not. A bit too graphic I think. Maybe some violin? You like Bach, although I have no idea why..." Ruby squirmed in the harness, "No? Well then...." Sherlock took a large and theatrical step toward the kitchen, looking down fondly at the little girl, ".....maybe....." another large step, "...you could help me experiment?"

Hanging in the harness, Ruby tilted her head up to see Sherlock's bright eyes and smile and waved her arms in delight. "Well then...If you insist! Experiment it is..."

Several hours later, the scientist and his young apprentice stood beside the table, both in goggles (Ruby's had been custom made in secret by Sherlock to fit her tiny face) as Sherlock carefully measured a selection of fluids extracted from the cow organs arrayed in front of them. He'd selected this experiment carefully. No chemicals, no flames, and no contagious materials. The harness limited his ability to use his microscope, but with Ruby enthusiastically waving sponges, tongs and bottle caps, Sherlock was kept entertained regardless.

Sherlock was just gesturing to the cow stomach with his scalpel when the methane it contained, which had obviously been building throughout the day, finally reached a critical level and without warning the straining skin exploded showering both Sherlock and Ruby with a wet, smelly, bloody and unpleasantly viscous coating of skin and stomach contents.

There was a frozen moment in which Sherlock and Ruby stood motionless after the sudden deluge until Ruby recovered and let out a piercing and disgruntled wail of shock and discomfort.

Sherlock was marginally slower to respond and methodically put the scalpel down on the table before taking a step away from the unexpected carnage now covering virtually every surface of the kitchen.

"It's OK Ruby, you're fine, you're safe, I'm here." Sherlock soothed, and placed a gentle hand on her head, wincing slightly as he felt lumps of something unpleasant ooze through his fingers, "Let's get you cleaned up."

Even at that point, Sherlock may have been able to salvage the situation and dispose of the evidence had Detective Inspector Lestrade NOT chosen that exact moment to arrive on the scene bearing take-away (which John and Mary had thoughtfully suggested to meet dual purposes of ensuring Sherlock ate as well as checking to see all was well at Baker Street).

No doubt hearing Ruby's cries from the front door, Lestrade was already taking the stairs two at a time before the sight before him brought him up short, "Good God Sherlock, what the hell is going on here?"

"Nothing.." Sherlock raised his voice over the still crying Ruby, "Just a little accident. We're fine."

Sherlock carefully unclipped Ruby from the harness so he could lift and turn her, cuddling her against his filthy shoulder. She immediately settled to hiccupping sobs as Sherlock rubbed her back.

"A little accident? It looks like Jack the Ripper has moved in for a holiday. What the fuck happened?"

Sherlock covered Ruby's ears and gave Lestrade a furious glance, "Language Inspector. No swearing in front of the baby."

Lestrade ran a hand through his short hair, shaking his head, "No...swearing? And yet this... " he waved his hand at the viscera dripping down the walls, "THIS...is perfectly fine?"

"Well....no. Not as such. I suspect the Watson's would be rather unimpressed with the state of their daughter just at the moment."

Sherlock stepped toward the Inspector who hastily backed away from the reeking pair, "Which is why...before you interrupted...we were going to go have a little wash. Weren't we Ruby."

Hearing her name, the small head lifted from his shoulder and turned toward Lestrade, shooting him an unlikely but nevertheless imperious stare which clearly said, "Get out of my way, do I look like I enjoy being covered in filth."

Lestrade trailed after them as Sherlock grabbed Ruby's nappy-bag and headed to the bathroom.

After turning on the taps on in the basin murmuring, "Sorry Ruby-girl, time for a make-shift bath in the sink, OK?" he grabbed Ruby's change mat from her bag, laying her down before unclipping the remainder of the harness and waving it at Lestrade mumbling, "Here...hold this".

The Detective Inspector closed his fingers around the straps before realising that the entire thing was covered in bits of skin, greenish brown grassy strands and sticky mucus.

Dropping it to the floor he wiped his hands on his trousers before he'd realised what he was doing and only managing to spread the material further. "Oh for God's sake....." Lestrade waved his hands in the air, "That's disgusting."

Meanwhile, Sherlock was efficiently removing Ruby's soiled clothes, pitching them carelessly onto the shower tiles, her nappy swiftly followed before he gently lowered the wriggling girl into the warm water. Ruby splashed gleefully in the unfamiliar ad-hoc bathtub as Sherlock scooped water over her getting the worst of her face and out of her fine hair.

"Glen..." Sherlock began quietly.

"Greg.."

"Greg.." Sherlock tried again, avoiding eye contact with the Inspector, "What would it take for you to NOT inform John and Mary of tonight's escapade?"

"What would it...?" Greg gaped at the question, before a sly smile caught at his lips.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and spoke more slowly, "Yes....Inspector...Ruby and I..." Sherlock gestured at Ruby, now playing in the bubbles from Sherlock's expensive shampoo, "....would like to know what your silence is likely to cost us..."

Sherlock reached for a towel, lifting the little girl from the water and wrapping her snuggly.

Greg mumbled something that may have been, "You could remember my name for a start" but realising that the situation offered a unique opportunity, he aimed higher, "Well....Let me think for a moment...."

Sherlock turned and handed the now swaddled Ruby to the DI before starting to unbutton his shirt with ruthless efficiency, not breaking eye contact while Lestrade considered his options.

"You could......Sherlock, what are you doing?"

"Taking a shower. It may have escaped your limited attention, but I'm covered with cow."

"Christ Sherlock, wait until I leave." Greg managed to turn his back as Sherlock's trousers fell to the floor.

He heard the amused chuckle over his shoulder as the taps squeaked and steam began misting from the shower.

"So....the price?" Sherlock's baritone echoed off the shower walls.

"What about...." He looked down at the little girl, who was now gleefully playing with his tie. She was clearly unscathed from the nights events and he suspected had probably rather enjoyed the entire experience, "Oh hell Sherlock.....what about nothing?"

"Excuse me?" Sherlock's head ducked around the shower curtain.

"Ruby's fine. There's no harm done and if i'm right, telling the Watsons would only lead to them restricting your access. She clearly loves you, and why would I deprive her of that. You're in the clear."

Lestrade felt a large hand on his shoulder and turned to find a very serious Sherlock looking down at him with greater than his usual intensity. It was as if Sherlock was trying to discern some new mystery.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing. Never saw anything.....didn't happen on my watch."

"That's......" Sherlock paused, his brow furrowing in thought, "..very generous of you. We.." he reached out for the little girl and Greg handed her back," ..thank you."

Greg cleared his throat loudly, aware how rare thanks from Sherlock was and what that gratitude was worth. "No trouble. Well, if you two will be alright, I'll be heading off."

"Say goodbye to the nice man Ruby." Sherlock escorted him to the door. As he opened it, he leaned in close to the girl's head and murmured to her, "His name's Greg....and he's a good man."

***

An hour later, the Watson's returned. They'd never know the Hurculean effort Sherlock had undertaken to restore the kitchen to normality, or know of the desperate washing and drying of Ruby's outfit. They also never thought to question why Sherlock had changed clothes, if they'd noticed at all.

All they saw was the detective, quietly sleeping on the sofa, their small daughter snuggly cuddled on his chest. Both of them were blissfully asleep. Her tiny hands were fisted in his shirtfront, and his large hand protectively cradling her head.

"Told you they'd be fine," Whispered Mary as she paused in the doorway.

John nodded slowly and smiled. He glanced around the apartment...something felt...not quite right.

But then.....perhaps he was overreacting.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to GothTigger for the great conversation that lead to this ridiculous fic.


End file.
